


i couldn't make you feel a fucking thing

by alison



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Post-One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alison/pseuds/alison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nick and louis have been together for a year; they live together, they're not hiding their relationship, louis isn't constantly on tour anymore.</p><p>it should be perfect, but it's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i couldn't make you feel a fucking thing

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this post](http://carswinky.tumblr.com/post/88241260848/emptvness-counterparts-debris).
> 
> thanks to my lovely friends for reading it over for me. not britpicked, many apologies for americanisms.
> 
> note/warning: this fic portrays a fairly unhealthy relationship dynamic. there's no abuse involved but there is a decent amount of neglect. be careful if that is triggering to you.

The table is set with real plates and silverware. There's a tablecloth covering the scratched wooden surface and the lights are dimmed. The room smells like lemon and thyme from the chicken staying warm in the oven. The candle flickering in the middle of the table has just about melted down to nothing, wax spilling over sides. Nick watches it like a clock, like sand falling to the bottom of an hourglass, waiting for the time to be up.

One year. 365 days. And, of course, he's alone.

The candle finally runs out of wick and extinguishes itself, a pillar of smoke replacing the flame. Nick pushes back his chair and walks into the kitchen, pulling the food out of the oven. It's a little burnt now, but it doesn't matter. He leaves it on the stove and turns, pointedly not looking at the vase on the counter, filled with red roses. He flicks off the light instead, walking tiredly to the bedroom.

If he wasn't so used to it, he might cry.

-

When the bed dips beside him later, Nick is only half-asleep. Louis curls up at his side, nudging his arm out of the way to tuck under his shoulder.

“I'm sorry, babe,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss Nick's cheek. “My meeting ran late, you know how it goes. Food looked good, though. You should have put it away so we could have a one year and one day celebration.”

Nick doesn't laugh even though the thought is worth laughing at. If he'd done that, Louis would have made himself busy enough to avoid it again.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says instead.

Louis kisses his cheek again, a bit lower, right over the curve of his jaw. “You're angry, aren't you?”

Nick shrugs, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. He doesn't feel angry. He's not sure how many times you can get angry about the same thing. “Wish you'd been here, that's all.” He strokes his thumb over the softness of Louis' skin, taking comfort in the touch. It's what he can fall back on when he doesn't get anything else, the feel of Louis' body against his own.

“I know,” Louis says over a sigh, pausing for a moment before scooting up a bit, his lips pressing just below Nick's ear. “I can make it up to you, though, yeah?” His tongue flicks out, catching on the lobe of Nick's ear. Nick blinks his eyes shut as Louis' hand slides down over his crotch. “Want me to?”

Nick nods because of course he does. He never stops wanting Louis, no matter how many times the boy lets him down. He's not sure he ever will stop, honestly; it feels like a disease, like something he'll carry with him until he dies, the absolute desperation he feels for him.

“What do you want? Want me to ride you? I know you like that.”

Nick holds onto Louis' waist, gripping at his skin as the boy's hand slips under his pants, delicate fingers wrapping around him. He thinks about it, about what he wants, and realizes it doesn't matter.

With Louis, it's always been a matter of taking what he can get. It's never been about what he wants.

“I do,” he answers anyway.

They kiss as Louis opens himself up and Nick could kiss him forever, probably. When they're like this, in bed together, naked and pressed against each other, it's the only time Nick really feels it, that Louis wants him, too. He'd thought that would change after they started dating, after they moved in together. He'd thought Louis would let him into the rest of his life, but it's still just this, these moments.

When Louis sinks down onto him, their eyes lock and Nick's chest aches with how much he needs it. He reaches up and holds the sides of the boy's waist, never looking away as he starts a rhythm, sliding up and down on Nick's cock like they were made to fit together like this.

He doesn't say _I love you_. The roses sitting lonely on the kitchen counter say it. The burnt chicken and the melted-down candle say it. The words fill the house, line the walls and linger in the air, and they go unreturned, so.

Nick stays silent.

-

They moved in together by accident, really. Nick's lease was up for renewal and the flat was starting to need serious updates and he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with it, hassling his landlord into fixing things and probably having repairmen in and out of his place constantly. He started looking into buying a place outright, thinking it'd be nice to own the walls around him, to be able to do whatever he pleased.

He couldn't find something perfect, though, and when he said this to Louis in month two of their official relationship, after months of fooling around in secret, Louis suggested he just stay at his until he could find a place. They were always spending the night together anyway, so it would be easier.

At first it was temporary, Nick living out of a case tucked into the corner of Louis' bedroom. There was never a significant moment, nothing that Nick could pinpoint as the moment it became more of a permanent kind of thing. Just slowly, over time, Nick moved into Louis' house. He started getting post there. He moved his clothes into one of the closets. He started putting up his pictures and art, usually while Louis was out, making the space feel a bit more like his. Finally, he hung his _Enjoy_ sign right in the entryway, smiling when Louis rolled his eyes at the sight.

By month six, it was _their_ place.

The thing is, though, none of it was easy for Nick. He isn't used to doing the real relationship thing, has had so few in his life, but he wants it now. He's thirty-three, practically ancient, and he wants to settle down a bit. And maybe Louis wasn't the ideal choice for that, but he's the one Nick fell in love with, so there wasn't much choosing to be done.

It's just that nothing's really changed. Louis was cagey at the start of their relationship and he is now, a year later. Nick has been patient because he understands it to an extent; he gets that it's intimidating to be in a relationship. With a man. For the first time. Publicly.

And Louis is dealing with things, dealing with the end of his band and trying to figure out what's next for him. It's overwhelming and scary and Nick understands that, so he's been patient. But a year is a long time. It's a long time to be with someone who's still so afraid to say things, to make gestures. It's a long time to love someone who's afraid to love you back and Nick's patience is wearing thin.

The problem, though, is that Nick _does_ love him. Desperately, painfully, pathetically loves him.

-

“Let's go out tonight,” Louis says on day 366, spread out on their couch.

Their couch. They picked it out together. Argued over the colour for a half hour in the shop.

“Did you have something in mind?” Nick asks without looking up from his laptop where he's trying to organize his inbox, catch up on his e-mails. Louis' feet are dug under Nick's thighs as they almost always are since the boy is still weirdly disinclined to wear socks. Nick bought him a really nice, _expensive_ pair of slippers for Christmas, but they've been collecting dust at the bottom of the closet for three months.

“Liam's having a thing at his club, we could go to that.”

Nick fights not to groan out loud. Liam's club is always filled with barely-legal douchebag guys and loud girls. The music sucks and the drinks are overpriced and the décor is borderline tacky. It's a novelty club and Nick never feels comfortable there.

Louis knows all of this, though, so Nick doesn't say it. “Sure, yeah, we could do that,” he says instead because Louis is _inviting_ him somewhere and Nick is a starving man being offered a crumb.

“I'll tell him to save us a private room,” Louis says distractedly, already typing out the message on his phone.

Nick waits for him to finish, then sets his laptop to the side and grabs Louis' phone, dropping it onto the floor. Before Louis can yell at him to be careful, Nick crawls over him, pinning him to the couch, and leans down to mouth hotly at his neck.

“We have a private room right now,” he says in his best sexy voice. “What's say we put it to good use?”

He flicks his tongue at the soft, sensitive skin of Louis' neck, nipping his teeth over it, and Louis gasps quietly, then laughs when Nick moves up to his ear, shuddering against the sensation as warm breath tickles him.

The sound brings Nick out of the moment because it's his favourite sound in the whole world, Louis' laughter. It makes his chest ache inexplicably, makes his throat tighten up. He wants to hear that sound every day for the rest of his fucking life, wants to wake up to it and fall asleep to it.

“I love you,” he whispers, right into Louis' ear. It's not as if he doesn't know it, not as if Nick hasn't told him before. It's just something he holds back as much as possible because he doesn't want the words to scare Louis off; that's the opposite of what he wants.

He remembers the one time Louis said it back, can still hear the slurred words when Louis whispered it, giggling afterward as Nick pushed into him closer, pressing his erection into Louis' hip. Nick had thought at the time that it would be the first of many. Now he wonders if Louis had giggled because it was a joke to him.

Louis doesn't seem to react to the words now, just slips his hand between them and rubs Nick's cock through his jeans, tilting his head to the side so Nick can sucks bruises into the skin there.

He thinks Louis does love him, in his own way. He cares about Nick, that much is certain. He wouldn't have kept this up for a year if he didn't care.

Nick can only wonder when that will stop being enough.

-

The club is called Snake Habitat. Louis had explained to Nick the meaning behind the name, why it was funny, but Nick still thinks it sounds like the cheesy name of a gay bar. The last time he was here, he heard no fewer than half a dozen guys use it as a pick-up line, shouting over the music to ask girls, “do you want to have a look at _my_ snake habitat?” One of the many reasons why Nick hates this club, honestly.

Liam is lovely, though, and Nick doesn't want to be a prick so he pastes on a smile as Louis leads him into a private room where Liam greets them, already a little glassy-eyed.

“Lads!” He shouts, rushing over to hug Louis, then Nick.

At least the music isn't as assaulting back here. And there are only twenty or so people in the room, so Nick doesn't have to shield himself from the douchebags. Plus, Louis is more likely to hold his hand in the more intimate setting, which is nice.

“Good to see you, mate,” Nick says, smiling, as Liam pulls away from him. “Quite the line outside. I guess business is booming?”

Liam shrugs modestly, his cheeks tinted pink. “It's good, yeah,” he answers, turning to Louis. “But we're cooking up something even better, right, Tommo?”

Louis smiles easily, nodding, and Nick doesn't really know what they're talking about. He gets vague bits of information about what it is Louis' working on, knows he and Liam are still writing together, but he doesn't know anything concrete and it makes him feel awkward. People assume Nick knows everything because it's been a year and they live together, but he honestly doesn't know much more than anyone else. It's almost embarrassing to admit.

“Just hope you're better at producing than you are at FIFA,” Louis quips back. Producing, then, alright. That makes sense, Nick thinks.

Liam's expression changes to mock outrage. “Hey I beat you twice last night! Would have been more if it wasn't so bloody late, too.”

Nick doesn't move except to pull his lips tight. He doesn't even flinch, but he realizes in that moment that Louis missed their anniversary to play video games with Liam. His big meeting that ran late was fucking video games.

Of course it was, though. Of course. Nick knew he missed it on purpose; that hasn't changed.

“Listen, I have to go add a couple names to the list, but get yourselves some drinks, yeah? They know not to charge you.”

And just like that, Liam's gone, and left in his place is a tension so thick that Nick feels like he's suffocating.

He coughs after a moment and nudges his head toward the bar in the corner, walking over to it. Louis follows closely, even finds Nick's hand with his own, holding it as Nick orders for both of them. They're silent until they settle down onto a couch, take a few sips from their drinks, then Louis finally turns toward him.

“The meeting did run late,” he says quietly, not meeting Nick's gaze. “I knew I'd already fucked up, so I agreed to go to Liam's for a bit to talk things over. But the meeting did run late, I didn't lie. I-”

“Louis, it's fine,” Nick interrupts, even though it really, really isn't. “Don't worry about it.” He takes a long sip from his drink, nearly downing half of it, and he doesn't know where to look. He doesn't know anyone else in the room and he doesn't know how to look at Louis without showing him how hurt he is. And maybe Louis deserves to see that, but Nick's pride still won't let him show it.

“Hey,” Louis says, still soft, like they're at home together and not in a loud club with fucking snakes painted on the walls. “Kiss me?”

Nick chokes back a sob because it's so fucking hard with Louis, so hard to find the right balance. He has to make sure he doesn't go too far, but he wants to push it to the limit, wants everything Louis is willing to give. It's getting harder and harder as time goes on to figure out what's too far and what's not far enough.

It's getting harder to hold himself back from loving the boy all out, no holds barred.

Nick closes his eyes for a moment, then turns to look at Louis, wishing he could tell what's going on in his mind. If it's just fear, if it's just temporary, Nick can wait. He can be patient a little longer. But if it's worse, if it's just that he doesn't _care_ enough-

Nick shakes his head to himself and dips down, pressing his lips to Louis' heavily. His chest still aches acutely, never really easing up, but Louis' lips feel so good that he can almost ignore it if he tries very hard.

-

Louis isn't _out_ , per se, but he isn't really in either. He never wanted a fuss, so once the band had called it quits the year before and he and Nick started dating shortly afterward, they just didn't go out of their way to hide it. They'd been papped holding hands, even kissing, but Louis never made an official statement about it. He ignored the tweets about his sexuality and about Nick, saying it wasn't anyone's business.

So now it's just public knowledge that they're together, but neither of them has ever actually confirmed it publicly. Nick still has to be careful what he says on air or in interviews, but it means they can kiss in public without a massive panic.

Which is good tonight because Louis keeps kissing him, flitting off to catch up with old friends and acquaintances, but coming back to kiss Nick every once in a while, like he's trying to fix everything that's broken with his lips. It doesn't work like that, as much as Louis would like it to, and Nick feels that burning ache in his chest throughout the night, even when Louis whispers into his ear that they should get going because Louis wants to suck his cock like mad.

They snog in the back seat of the car on the way back home, and Nick wonders if this is enough, if he can get by just on the physical aspect of their relationship. It's good enough that he thinks it's possible.

At home, Nick falls back onto the bed and watches Louis crawl over him, his perfect mouth taking him in, sliding so wet and hot over Nick's cock that, yes, he thinks he'd sacrifice everything else just for this. He'd let his chest ache and ache every day if only to feel this, to have Louis' eyes looking up at him as he sucks down, mouth so full.

Nick barely hears the lube being opened before he feels a wet finger teasing his rim, making him gasp. And then it's sliding in carefully and Nick melts between the finger and Louis' mouth, drops his head back and spreads his legs, a silent invitation for Louis to give him more.

Soon enough, Louis' slipping a second finger in and fucking him with them, his mouth only losing suction once or twice to breathe. Tears prick at Nick's eyes as his lids fall shut. He wants to watch so badly, but he can't; it's already too much. His chest is too tight and Louis' mouth is too hot and his fingers are curled too perfectly for Nick to handle seeing his eyes looking up, too.

As incredible as it all is, the thing that sends him over the edge is Louis' free hand resting on Nick's hip, his thumb stroking so gently over his skin. It feels so comforting, like Louis is telling him it's okay, and it's the closest to loving that Louis gets. That's what makes Nick come, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. That little touch.

He hastily wipes the wetness away from his eyes as Louis swallows, slipping his fingers out. When Louis crawls up next to him, Nick takes a minute to breathe before turning onto his side and grabbing hold of Louis' dick, already hard.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning down to kiss Louis softly. “So good.”

Louis smiles quickly before his face relaxes again, eyes shutting as Nick pulls him off. “You too, _ah_ \- good fingers,” he says, then bites down on his bottom lip.

Nick wanks him until he comes, then wraps an arm around his waist. He wishes they could just fall asleep like that, but Louis eventually hops up and disappears into the bathroom, the sound of the running shower filtering through the wall. Nick closes his eyes and flips onto his stomach, feeling the ghost of Louis' fingers inside him.

It's enough, he decides. It has to be.

-

Louis isn't home a lot. Even with his band having split up, he's got meetings with who-fucking-knows-who almost every day. He writes with Liam all the time, which Nick knows involves as much faffing around as it does actual writing, not that Nick is about to judge their creative process. He goes to Zayn's often, always coming back smelling faintly of weed, his mouth tasting like cigarettes and beer.

He keeps busy and Nick tries to believe that it has nothing to do with Louis not wanting to be stuck at home with Nick for too long. He tries to believe that Louis just needs to be _doing_ something, and most of the time he's successful. Most of the time he doesn't take it personally.

On a rare day when they're both home, they sleep in, then lounge in bed for an hour before Louis finally gets up to take a shower. Nick slips into the bathroom and steps into the shower behind the boy, smiling when Louis looks back over his shoulder inquisitively.

“Water conservation,” Nick says, stepping close enough to rest his hands over Louis' sides.

Louis huffs out a disbelieving noise, but doesn't complain when Nick grabs the shampoo, pouring it into his palms and then massaging it into Louis' hair. Louis loves having his hair washed for him and Nick rarely indulges him so the boy melts under the touch, relaxing into it.

“Let's do something fun today,” Nick suggests, moving his fingers down to rub against the nape of Louis' neck. “Just the two of us, whatever you want to do.”

It takes a moment for Louis to break through the hazy relaxation enough to respond with a disbelieving tone. “ _Whatever_ I want to do?”

Nick hums affirmatively, his fingers still working over Louis' scalp. “You name it.”

When Louis' hair is thoroughly washed and rinsed, he turns to Nick, tapping his lips. “You're going to regret that offer, Grimshaw,” he says, his smile turning wicked.

Nick just kisses him though, loving the taste of Louis' smile, the way his lips curl under Nick's mouth. There aren't many things about the boy that Nick doesn't love, honestly. He even loves the things that drive him mad.

The only part of Louis that Nick doesn't love is the part that doesn't love him back.

-

They end up in a dark cinema on a sunny afternoon, watching superheroes fight to the death or whatever it is superheroes do. He tries to pay attention because he wants to be a good boyfriend, wants to get excited about the things that Louis gets excited about, but the fact is, Louis makes no such attempts.

He spends the hour and forty-five minutes growing increasingly bitter as he tries to think of things Louis has done to go out of his way for Nick. It's not as if he _never_ has, but the list is shockingly short and Nick goes through a cycle as the film plays, angry at first, then hurt, then numb. By the time the lights come on in the theatre, he feels something akin to hopeless.

It's been a fucking year and Louis still refuses to bend for Nick, refuses to _try._ Nick is exhausted from trying, honestly; he's been doing it so long. He's tired of desperately waiting for that day when Louis will let him in, tired of being patient and careful. He's tired of constantly wanting more and he's tired of knowing, deep down, that he won't get it.

Afterward, as they're walking from the cinema to the car, Louis slips his hand into Nick's, their fingers intertwined. Nick can't help but notice that he's holding on tighter than Louis is.

-

It starts with the boxes in the basement that he'd never gotten around to unpacking. Then it's the clothes he never wears anymore, stuck in the closet of the guest bedroom. Then it's extra linens, towels, a lamp.

Pictures of his friends.

The magnet on the fridge from Glasto 2010.

His favourite mug.

He takes his time, slowly erasing traces of himself from the house, pointedly moving his gaze away from the empty spots left in their place. He draws it out, not even filling his car when he drives a load to Collette's, filling her spare room with boxes.

When there's nothing left but his necessities, a few outfits hanging lonely in the closet and some toiletries, he throws them in a duffel bag, setting it beside the bed. On shaky legs, he walks to the entry, not even lifting his eyes to look at the neon _Enjoy_ sign before he unplugs it and pulls it away from the wall. He carries it to his car and carefully sets it in the back, breathing out heavily as he shuts the door.

Walking back through the house, he stares at his feet, knowing that if he looks up he'll only see the empty spots that used to mark his presence in Louis' house, his life. The only thing left is a photo Louis had taken of the two of them a month after moving in together. Louis had gotten it printed out and bought a little frame for it, propping it up on his nightstand.

In the bedroom, Nick doesn't look at it, can't bear to see their smiling faces pressed close, Louis' temple touching Nick's cheek.

He sits facing the door instead, and waits.

-

When the front door opens, Nick's been staring at his hands for at least an hour, maybe two. He listens as the door clicks softly shut, silence following. It's just a moment before he can barely hear the distant footsteps start, then stop again. They slowly get closer, louder, always stopping every few paces and Nick wonders if he's finally noticing, if he's figuring it out.

When Louis finally gets to the bedroom and walks inside, his eyebrows are drawn together in confusion, gaze immediately finding Nick sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Your stuff is gone,” he says, standing just inside the door, glancing back behind him for a second before he turns to Nick again. Even as his face starts to fall almost imperceptibly, his brow remains scrunched, waiting for an explanation.

“Yeah,” Nick says, his voice cracking over the syllable from the dryness of his throat. “Collette's gonna take me in for a bit until I find my own place.”

Louis' face drops completely then, but it's only for a second before he clamps his lips together, his jaw set. “Just like that?” He asks after a long moment, quietly angry and confused. “No warning, just here one day, gone the next?”

Nick fights to stay calm even though he could easily punch a wall or scream in the boy's face. “I've been moving out for three weeks,” he says, managing not to raise his voice. “ _Three weeks,_ Louis. And you didn't even notice.”

Louis doesn't respond, barely even flinches, just stares Nick down for another moment before looking away. He looks toward the window to Nick's right, the muscles of his jaw working, clenching and releasing.

“It's not working,” Nick says quietly, looking back down at his hands. He absolutely does not think about the fact that, once he leaves, he doesn't know when he'll see Louis again. He purposely, forcefully, does not think about the fact that this is the last time he'll see Louis for an indefinite period of time. “I think you know it's not. Maybe it never really was.”

He takes a deep breath, not allowing himself to get emotional, to break apart. When he speaks again, he lowers his voice even more, the words coming out on a whisper. “I'm tired of waiting, Lou, really bloody tired.”

Louis is silent and still, staring out the window for a long moment. When Nick looks up, watching Louis process it, he thinks about how different he is with Louis, how weak he is for him. He'd never let himself fall in love before Louis, always so quick to find flaws in boys and move on. Now he understands why he did that, avoided falling for someone in a real way, because he's never felt something like this, pain and fear and desperation.

And yet, if Louis would just look at him, would just apologize or ask him to stay, Nick probably would. If he'd just give Nick _something_ , he'd stay in a heartbeat.

When Louis finally turns his head, his eyes meeting Nick's across the small space, he shrugs. The movement is jerky and unnatural and the boy folds his arms over his waist, closing himself off. “Fine,” he says, and nothing more.

And if Nick expected anything else, he was an idiot.

“Fine,” Nick repeats thoughtfully, almost laughing at the absurdity of it, ending a relationship of over a year with a simple _fine_.

He doesn't laugh, though. He nods to himself and stands, stretching out his limbs and reaching down for the duffel bag, pulling it onto his shoulder. When he turns to face Louis, unsure of what kind of goodbye to offer, Louis isn't looking at him. His head is dropped where he's picking at his nails, clawing at his cuticles.

Nick can see a slight tremble in the boy's fingers and he looks away, not letting himself dwell on it.

“I'm gonna go,” he says, then clears his throat because it feels clogged. There's nothing there, though, nothing he can cough away.

“'Kay,” Louis answers, so quietly that Nick almost misses it.

He doesn't say goodbye because he can't bear to. He just walks out of the bedroom and through the house, every step feeling like a struggle. He stops at the front door, hand on the doorknob as he counts to ten. Just in case.

He makes it to twenty before he mentally slaps himself for having any hope left and he opens the door and steps outside, closing it behind him for possibly the last time. He doesn't cry, doesn't shake; he just feels numb as he gets into his car and pulls away from what is no longer his home, as of this moment.

Maneuvering the gentle curves of the road, he makes a vow not to fall in love again. Once was enough, he thinks. Once was too much.

-

It's been a week. One week since Nick moved out, one week of hiding away in Collette's spare room, one week of falling asleep and waking up alone. Every morning, it takes him a moment to remember that the space next to him is _supposed_ to be cold, that no one is actually missing.

A week of stomachaches that never really go away, claw at his insides until he gets sick and Collette knocks on the bathroom door, asking if he's alright.

And he is, really. He's better than he'd expected to be. He doesn't cry himself to sleep, he doesn't throw things. He just hurts, physically hurts, and he waits for it to stop.

It's been a week. And then he gets a text from Louis.

_you left your headphones and some stuff. let me know if you want to come get them._

Nick stares too long at the screen of his phone, tapping it when it threatens to go black, tracing the letters with his eyes like he'll find Louis in the pixels there. His stomach churns with how much he misses the boy. He hates the mess he's become.

 _I want to_ , he types back, thumbs hesitating over the keyboard for a long moment before sending it.

The reply comes quickly: _ok tomorrow? after work? i'll be here.._

Nick types out his agreement to Louis' suggestion, then drops his phone on the bed, lying back against the pillows. He knows it's a terrible idea, seeing Louis again so soon, but the desire to see him wins. It's not even a close race.

-

The next day, Nick stands in front of the familiar door, his hand dug in his pocket where he's rubbing the pad of his thumb over the key that will unlock it. Instead of pulling it out, he rings the doorbell, taking a step back and waiting as if this wasn't his home a mere few days ago.

When Louis opens the door, he almost looks different, like not seeing his face for a week has made Nick forget the details of it. He remembers how, when he was younger, he quit a job at a shop. A couple of weeks afterward he'd gone back to the shop and the building looked so much different. Smaller.

Louis looks smaller.

“Hey, come in,” he says and Nick can already hear the anxiousness in his voice, can feel the nervous energy vibrating off of him.

Nick steps in, swallowing over his dry throat a couple of times before trusting himself to speak. “Thanks for texting,” he says, standing awkwardly in the entry, where the blue glow of the Enjoy sign used to fall. “I figured you'd just chuck anything you found.”

Louis cringes as he shuts the door, shaking his head and walking into the house, Nick following at a safe distance. “It's just some odds and ends, thought you'd want them,” he says, not acknowledging Nick's comment.

In the living room, he points to a small box on the sofa- _their_ sofa- and Nick swallows again, going to pick it up. Whatever is in it, it's light anyway.

“I need to say something,” Louis blurts out, standing halfway across the room.

When Nick looks up, the lad isn't meeting his gaze, staring at a distant spot on the floor. His heart stutters and it hurts, but he doesn't move, waiting to see what Louis will say.

“I'm not saying it to, like, make excuses or get you back or whatever, I know- I know it's too late for that, I just want you to know,” he rambles off quickly, fidgeting in his place. “It's not- you're-” he tries to start, then gets frustrated, wiping his hands over his face as he huffs into them. “It's hard for me,” he finally spits out.

Nick shifts the box in his hands, tilting his head. “You don't have to say anything, Lou. It's fine.”

“No, not this,” Louis replies, glancing up for a moment, just long enough for Nick to feel his stomach swoop. “I mean, this isn't easy, obviously, but I mean the whole relationship thing. I kept waiting for it to get easier, but somehow it just got harder. And I was awful to you and I'm sorry for that, but I couldn't- it was like a constant panic attack, like I knew I had to move but I couldn't, I was frozen. I knew I had to be better and I knew _how_ to be better, but I fucking couldn't.” He drops his voice to a whisper, adding, “I couldn't do it,” then lifts his gaze to Nick again, actually holding it this time.

Nick feels numb from head to toe because it really is too late and it's not even everything he has to hear, but Louis is apologizing. He knows that's not easy for the lad.

“You were in a relationship before,” Nick says because, if they're talking about this, he may as well get a few more answers. “You were ready to spend the rest of your life with her.”

He remembers Louis telling him one night, before they were even officially dating. It was during the time when they were starting to actually get to know each other between orgasms and they were naked in bed, tired and hazy. They'd talked about their exes and Louis told him all about Eleanor, about how he'd been looking for the perfect engagement ring when she broke things off.

“And that ended, didn't it?” Louis says softly, looking at Nick like he's trying to force himself not to look away. “Like I said, not trying to make excuses, but that fucked me up. You know it did.”

Nick feels a pang in his chest, cutting all the way through him. He knew it had taken a long time for Louis to get over that, but he didn't think it made him incapable of loving someone. He didn't think-

“Are you still in love with her?” He asks uncertainly because maybe he's been wrong about everything. Maybe he's been a giant fucking idiot.

“No, god,” Louis answers quickly, though, putting Nick's mind at ease. “I mean, as a friend, maybe, but no, I just mean- it ended. I was in love and it ended and every time I looked at you, it's like I could see the end.”

Nick shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Probably shouldn't have agreed to be with me then,” he says, only a little bitterly.

Louis is quiet for a long moment and when Nick opens his eyes, he doesn't look up, staring at the box in his hands.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice fragile. “But I _did_ , you know? I did and- and I _do_ and I'm a selfish prick.”

Nick waits a beat, his hands shaky as they hold the box. “You did?” He asks, not sure if he's following or if he's horribly, heartbreakingly wrong.

Louis doesn't answer right away. The seconds stretch out, turning into minutes and he still doesn't answer. Finally, Nick sighs to himself and turns toward the door, cursing himself for asking for too much. He's already gotten more out of Louis than he had in a year, probably.

When he gets to the door, he sets the box down, pulling his keys from his pocket. Glancing back at where Louis is now hidden behind a wall, he bites down on his lip, waiting. Nothing happens, though, so he turns back to his keys, sliding the house key off of the metal ring. When he drops it onto the table inside the door, it clatters loudly, practically echoing.

Nick walks out then, carrying the box to his car, feeling both better and also so much worse than when he'd arrived.

-

A few days later, Nick is trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep in Collette's spare bed, the clock ticking by and speeding toward his early wake-up call. It's almost midnight already and Nick flops over onto his stomach, huffing. His brain is refusing to shut down and he hasn't gotten a full night's sleep all week and he's still hurting, wishing the pain away.

And then his phone rings and he groans, reaching out for it. As soon as he sees the screen, though, he freezes. It's Louis.

“Hello?” He says, confused, when he manages to answer it.

“Hi,” Louis says softly. Nick can already tell he's drunk, just from that one syllable. “Hi,” he repeats, a bit muffled.

“Hi,” Nick replies, not sure what else to say.

He can hear Louis' breath for a few seconds, shallow and soft as it spills over the line, puffing against Nick's ear. It's quiet and Nick isn't sure what this phone call is all about, but he thinks maybe he could finally fall asleep like this, listening to Louis breathe.

“I love you,” Louis finally mumbles, making Nick squeeze his eyes shut tightly, making everything hurt all over again. “I did love you and I still do. 'M sorry I didn't say it.”

Nick's throat is embarrassingly tight, clenched over the lump in it, and he hasn't cried much, but his eyes feel wet now. It's everything he wanted, it's exactly what he wanted to hear, but somehow it's still not enough.

“Why didn't you?” He asks, hoping Louis can't hear the rasp in his voice, the tremble of it.

“I was scared,” Louis answers, his own voice small and far away.

Nick breathes out a shaky breath, tears smudging around his eyes as he blinks, but never actually falling. “And now?”

It's quiet for a moment, Louis' breath in his ear coming a bit quicker, less evenly. “Nothing to lose, I s'pose,” he answers, his voice cracking.

It's true. There's nothing left to lose, not for either of them. It's already been lost.

“I love you so fucking much,” Nick says quietly, bringing a hand up to cover his face, tired and hurt.

He eventually does fall asleep like that, Louis' breath in his ear. When he wakes up in the morning, he sees that the call lasted over an hour before Louis finally hung up.

-

When Harry invites him out for a day of shopping the next week, Nick immediately suspects he's going to get the whole _you-know-he-cares-about-you_ speech, maybe even the _he's-hurting-as-much-as-you-are_ one, too. He still agrees to go, having missed his friend.

To his happy surprise, Harry doesn't bring up Louis at all. He gives him an extra-long hug outside of Starbucks where they meet, then pulls away with a sad smile, but that's it. Then Harry is talking about how he needs some more t-shirts and maybe a lamp and they head inside to grab coffee before starting their search.

Even as they catch up, Harry expertly avoids any topic related to Louis and Nick is grateful. It's probably easier now, with the band having split up, but they're still all wrapped up in each other's lives, probably forever.

When they're at one of the nicer thrift shops in London, Harry heads off toward the clothes, leaving Nick to check out the lamps. The selection ends up being pretty shit, so Nick wanders toward the art to see what they've got. He never really stops looking for new things to hang on his walls and he's just signed the paperwork on a new flat so it might be nice to add to his collection now that he'll have more walls to cover.

He's flipping through some framed prints when he glances to the side and a small propped-up frame on a shelf catches his eye. It's white fabric that's framed, with words stitched over it in dark blue and Nick steps closer, stopping when he reads it.

 

 

(Image: "I tried my hardest but I couldn't make you feel a fucking thing")

He stares for a long while, not entirely sure what he's feeling. It feels a bit like divine intervention, like it was put there for him, these words that describe his feelings about Louis so succinctly. He stares, wondering if he really did try his hardest. He thinks he did. He thinks he gave it everything he had.

He picks up the frame, not really sure why he feels like he needs to buy it. It's not as though he's going to hang it in his living room and look at it every day. But divine intervention put it there and the least he could do is spend the ten quid and take it home.

When he meets Harry by the check-out, he tells him he didn't find any good lamps.

“That's alright,” he replies, shrugging with his arms full of shirts. “Maybe I'll get crafty and make a new shade for mine or something.”

He appears to think about it as they wait for an older woman ahead of them to finish paying for some books. When he shakes his head, though, he glances down at Nick's hand. “Hey, what'd you find?”

When Nick shows him, Harry reads it, his face slowly falling. He stares for a moment after he's read the words, taking a few breaths before he squints up at Nick, concerned.

“You sure you're okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

Nick quirks the corner of his mouth up, shaking his head just slightly. “Not sure, no,” he says softly, holding the frame to his chest. “But I'm hanging in.”

Harry kisses the side of his head before Nick can stop him, nuzzling against his temple. He doesn't say anything else and Nick is glad. Everything has been about Louis for the past two weeks, and a year longer than that, his thoughts constantly going back to the boy. It's nice to have something else to think about for a bit, so when Harry changes the subject, it's more than welcome.

But so is the hand on Nick's back that's rubbing down his spine, a gesture of comfort that Nick hadn't known he'd needed.

When he gets home that night, he slips the frame into the top draw of his dresser. Maybe someday he'll be able to look at it without hurting.

-

_lou's mum's husband was in a bad accident. thought you'd want to know._

It's been a month since the break up and Nick stares at his phone, at the text from Harry. He's not sure how to react, but more than anything, Nick wants to make sure Louis' alright. He wants to be there for him, wants to help. But that's not his place anymore.

 _Make sure he's ok for me?_ he texts, knowing that Harry will. They all will. They're good about that.

He doesn't hear anything else about it and he doesn't ask because it's not his business. He does hope they're all doing alright, but he's got his own life to live and he does pretty well at it until, a few days later, there's a knock on his door an hour after he gets home from dinner with Pixie.

When he opens it, Louis is standing on his doorstep.

Not only is Louis actually on his doorstep, he's crying. It takes Nick a second to process it, but then he's pulling him inside, practically shaking with worry.

“Lou? Louis, what's wrong?” He asks, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist, ignoring how it makes him ache, finally having his arms around the boy again. “Talk to me,” he encourages gently after Louis doesn't answer.

Louis is holding onto him tightly, breath ragged against his shoulder, and Nick thinks he might start crying, too. It's so sudden, going from nothing to _this_ in a split second, remembering how he smells and the warmth of his body.

“I'm sorry,” Louis finally mumbles, his voice hoarse. He's not crying anymore or, if he is, it's silent. “My mum's husband was-”

“I heard,” Nick says, rubbing a palm up and down Louis' back. “Is he alright?”

Louis nods a tiny bit against Nick's shoulder, still holding on tightly. “He will be, but- but it was really bad,” he says quietly. “He was in a coma and my mum couldn't stop crying. She thought she was going to lose him and I-”

He stops, taking a deep breath, and leans back, still holding onto Nick's shoulders. When they're looking into each other's eyes, Nick almost shivers at how close they are, how unwaveringly Louis is looking at him.

“I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Nick closes his eyes, dropping his head because, _fuck_ , where was this a month ago or six months ago or ever?

“I can't ever stop thinking about you,” Louis goes on shakily. “But what if something happened to you? I couldn't- I can't-”

Nick winces his closed eyes, wants to kiss Louis calm more than he's wanted just about anything, feels like his legs will give out from it. He nearly chokes out a sob when he feels Louis' forehead rest against his own, the light touch of fingertips sliding up his neck.

“I've been a wreck without you,” he says, his fingers curling around the back of Nick's neck. “I could be better. I'd be better, I swear, if you wanted.”

Nick has nothing but a fear of falling back into old habits keeping him from agreeing to try. Louis has said the things he'd waited a year to hear and Nick still misses him so badly it hurts and he wants to just say yes, say they should start over, but it doesn't work like that. Louis is only saying these things because he misses Nick and, yes, maybe he loves him and he's just been through something traumatic.

“I can't,” he chokes out. “I want it, I really do, but I can't do that.”

Louis crumples a bit, leaning against Nick and pressing his face into his neck. “What can you do?” Louis asks, digging his fingers into the collar of Nick's shirt.

Nick thinks about that, not honestly sure. He's not sure what he can give that won't ruin him, how far he can push it before he self-destructs. But Louis is touching him, he's so close, and Nick has _missed_ him.

He tilts his head forward, ignoring the giant flashing warning signs in his head because Louis' lips are there and he hasn't tasted them in too long. He does it quickly, crushing his lips into Louis', swallowing the surprised squeak Louis releases, feeling him shudder. It barely takes Louis any time to adjust, pushing into Nick and kissing him hard.

Nick knows then that he's fucked up, he's lost, because it would take an army to pull him away now. Louis kisses just like he'd remembered, except now he's desperate, holding onto Nick so tightly like he's afraid of letting him get away. Nick winces as they kiss, wishing he'd figured this out before Nick had left.

When his lips are nearly numb from it, he takes Louis to bed. He strips him down slowly, uncovering skin he knows better than his own. It hasn't lost its appeal in the familiarity, though, and Nick still loses his breath at how good Louis looks, standing naked in front of him.

“We were always good at this part,” Louis says softly, removing Nick's shirt.

It's true enough that it stings, thinking of how they always had the sex even when the rest of it fell to shit. And now they're falling back on it again and Nick can't bring himself to fight against it. He watches as Louis drops to his knees, sliding Nick's jeans and pants down, pressing his forehead to the top of his thigh.

Nick's breath shudders when Louis kisses his skin, taking a moment before he moves to fit his mouth around his cock. It hits him then, the whirlwind of it. It took no time at all between Louis showing up at his door crying to get to this, Louis on his knees for him, sucking so sweetly at his cock.

“You're like a tornado,” he says quietly, resting his hand at the back of Louis' head as he watches the boy suck him down. “Just show up out of nowhere, pick up everything in your path. There's no fighting it, getting swept up by you.”

Nick remembers when Louis entered his life. Nick was just going along, completely unassuming, and then one day Louis was there and Nick was smitten. He changed, is the thing. Nick changed and it wasn't like Louis asked him to, but there was no avoiding it. He hasn't wasted his time loving someone who didn't love him back since secondary school, but he's spent over a year loving Louis, completely and totally, and he's gotten so little in return.

Nick-before-Louis would have thought it's pathetic. Nick-after-Louis knows that sometimes it's enough just to do the loving.

Louis stares up at him, mouth stretched around Nick's cock, unmoving for a long moment. When he finally slips off, he bumps his nose against the head of it, breathing hard.

“I don't want to be that. I want you to _want_ to want me,” Louis whispers. He sucks at Nick's cock again for a moment, loose-lipped and breathing around it. His eyelids fall and Nick's stomach curls with want and need until Louis slips off again. “Maybe the storm is dying down,” he says, eyes still closed.

Nick doesn't know exactly what that means, but he's not sure it matters. They had their chance and it didn't work and now this is all that's left, just two bodies that move better together than they do on their own.

He bends over then and helps Louis up, moving to the bed. He turns Louis around, guiding him until the boy is kneeling in the middle of it on his knees, then Nick moves into place behind him, fitting against his back. His cock is hard and wet with Louis' spit and it slips against his bum, sparking down Nick's spine.

He takes his time kissing down Louis' neck and over his shoulder, bringing his hands to Louis' front and letting them rest against his stomach. He doesn't rush because it's been over a month and it might be another forever after tonight. It's too important to hurry through.

They're silent as Nick nudges his nose against the back of Louis' neck and Louis falls forward, lowering until his shoulders are against the mattress, hands flat in front of him. They're silent as Nick gets out a bottle of lube, silent as he works Louis open with his fingers.

It never gets old, watching his fingers sink into the boy's body. Louis takes him so easily, makes room for Nick inside him, and Nick only wishes it were like that in their relationship, too. He wishes Louis could let him in just like this, letting Nick fit into his life, into his bloody heart.

When Louis is relaxed around three of Nick's fingers, he considers adding a fourth, maybe more, just to see how much he'll take. Instead, he pulls his fingers out altogether and slides a condom onto his dick, stroking himself a few times with a lubed-up hand.

As he pushes in, Louis' back arches, his body crumbling from the feeling. It's beautiful and fucking perfect and Nick closes his eyes for a moment, chest aching.

As they fuck, Nick drops down, curving close to Louis' body. He slides his hands forward until they tangle with Louis' and he holds on, working his hips slowly. His forehead rests against Louis' shoulder as they move together, fluid, like two things that were made to work together. Like a bolt and a wrench, like a car and a road. They're sort of useless on their own; they don't make sense.

He gets caught up in it, feels overwhelmed by Louis underneath him, Louis around him. He loses his head, whispering against the boy's neck. “Say it. Say it for me now.”

Louis doesn't ask, just shudders out a breath, squeezing Nick's fingers. “I love you,” he says and it doesn't even sound like he's only saying it for Nick's benefit. It sounds like he means it and Nick has to bite down on his lip, has to close his eyes because it's almost too much.

If loving a storm is intense, being loved by a storm is damn near catastrophic.

He comes holding onto Louis with an arm around his waist, with his face buried in his neck and a hand still grasping onto his. He barely even thinks, sliding his hand down to wank Louis for a few seconds before he comes, too, Nick still hard inside him.

It's as good as it ever is, which is to say that it's perfect.

-

An hour later, they're lying in bed and neither of them has said a word. It feels to Nick like once one of them speaks, they'll have to acknowledge reality. They'll have to get dressed and Louis will have to leave and they'll be ex-boyfriends again, not two people who are in love with each other, pressed together in the dark. He wants that to last as long as possible.

When Louis rolls over from where Nick's been pressed against his back, turning until they're facing each other, Nick knows it's about to end. He brings his hand up to press his thumb against Louis' lips, but it's no use. Their eyes meet and it's all there anyway, the reality of it.

Nick's thumb rubs over Louis' bottom lip for a moment, his heart clenching as he lets it fall away. “You should probably get going,” he whispers.

Louis' mouth parts, his eyes sad as he hesitates before answering. “Isn't there something I can do? I don't know what to do but I would, Nick, I'd do it.”

Nick drops his gaze, taking a deep breath. “There really isn't,” he says, full of regret but knowing it's true. “It's not like you telling me you love me magically makes it all okay. Honestly, I could have gone my whole life without hearing you say that if you'd at least showed it. If you'd acted like you cared, you know?”

“I know,” Louis says, without hesitation this time. “I know I was an idiot, I know it, but I wouldn't be anymore, I promise.” He squints as he lifts his hands to Nick's shoulders, pulling them closer together. “Just a chance? Let me show you I could be better?”

Nick closes his eyes and kisses him because he honestly doesn't know how Louis could show him and he doesn't know what to say. He just kisses him and pretends there really is a chance.

When Louis has gotten dressed, Nick pulls on a pair of trackies and walks him to the door. They hold each other there, letting the minutes stretch on around them, until Louis finally steps away.

“I'll show you,” he says with a sad smile. “Somehow. Somehow I'll show you.”

Nick hopes Louis figures out how to because he sure as fuck doesn't know how he could. He doesn't know what would fix what's been broken.

He nods, watching the boy leave, and then he's gone.

-

It's been a week since that night when Nick receives a small, unassuming package. When he opens it, he sees that it's a CD in a plain, clear case. There's a piece of paper tucked inside and Nick frowns, opening it up.

It's a handwritten note from Louis.

_Here's a CD of some of the songs I wrote about you. The first one is from before we started dating and the last one I wrote and recorded this week. It's not everything. I've got pages and pages of little bits, lyrics that never found a melody and half-formed thoughts that never became a full song. But these are the ones I finished._

_I loved you the whole time. I'm sorry I didn't let you hear that._

Nick listens to it straight through. It's all Louis singing, all acoustic. He can hear the difference from the beginning to the end, knows that the earlier ones were recorded a long time ago. None of it is produced, clearly in demo form.

By the time Louis is singing about _the empty spaces you left on the walls, our home became my house, tried so hard that night not to call_ , Nick's face is in his hands. Every word is familiar, the moments of their existence together highlighted over Louis' breathy voice and a guitar. It hurts to hear, but it's also overwhelming, realizing that Louis wrote so much about him. Even when he was constantly pulling away from Nick, he was writing about him.

The last song is quieter than the others and, through his headphones, it sounds like Louis is whispering in his ear over simple chords. When he sings, _I'm still afraid to let you in, but twice as afraid of never again_ , his voice cracks a little and it makes it all more real, makes it feel so completely sincere.

He's barely breathing by the time the song ends, sixteen tracks of Louis caring about Nick coming to a close. Sixteen tracks of Louis retroactively loving him, every day they were together.

He's not sure if it's enough yet, but he thinks maybe. Maybe someday, maybe soon, it will be enough.

When he's looking for a shirt later that day, he comes across the framed words stitched over fabric that he'd bought that day with Harry. Lifting it out of the drawer, he reads them again, only hesitating for a moment before he grabs his phone and calls Louis.

“If we try again, you have to let me hear it,” he says, staring at the words. “You can't let me go on thinking you don't feel anything. You have to play me the songs as you write them.”

Louis hesitates for a second before letting out a breath. “I'm writing one now. Want to listen?”

Nick spends the evening lying in bed, listening as Louis sings under his breath, changing words around and strumming different chords until he finds a progression he likes. It's fascinating and a bit overwhelming, hearing Louis' thoughts about Nick turn into music through the phone. Nick teases him when Louis sings about running his fingers through Nick's hair, smiles when Louis teases him back. They laugh together and they talk and Louis doesn't hide anything. It's the best night Nick's had in a very long time.

“Don't take me back yet, okay?” Louis says after a short silence, idly strumming the strings of his guitar.

Nick's eyes are closed, body sprawled out on top of his covers as he listens to Louis' breath and the soft guitar. “Why not?” He asks softly.

Louis sighs softly, the guitar fading to nothing as he stops playing. “I was really shit. I need to do better than a few songs. I need to do more than that to show you I deserve a second chance.”

Nick smiles, eyes closed, and nods. “Woo me, Tomlinson.”

The next day, when Nick gets home from work, there are about a thousand flowers in his flat, different colours and varieties, like Louis had bought out a florist's entire shop. They're in his kitchen and living room, in vases and boxes, and there's one single red rose lying on his kitchen counter, with a note attached.

_One for every day I promise not to be awful._  
 _(I asked for all of them. This is what “all of them” looks like.)_  
 _(Harry let me in.)_  
 _(He says he's sorry, but he's smiling so I don't think he's that sorry. Terrible friend he is, ought to get that spare key back.)_  
 _(I love you.)_

Nick grins at the card, then takes another look around him at the seemingly endless supply of flowers in his home. Pulling out his phone, he texts Louis: _get over here and kiss me you idiot._ If it's a mistake, it's one worth making.

While he waits for Louis to show up, he goes into his bedroom and opens the top draw of his dresser, pulling out the framed fabric with words stitched into it. He remembers how badly it hurt when he saw it the first time, when he read it. He remembers how true it felt.

He props the frame up on top of his dresser. Looking at it now, Nick doesn't hurt. Now, he hears Louis' songs in his head and knows that Louis did feel a fucking thing. He felt lots of fucking things.

That night, when Nick falls asleep, the cold, empty space next to him is filled again by a boy who fits there perfectly. He knows it's impossible to start from scratch and he doesn't even really want to; he wants them both to learn enough not to repeat the same mistakes. But it feels new to have Louis whispering into his lips that he loves him and it feels new to not be stifling the words himself. It feels good.

Nick will try his hardest to make sure it always feels this good. Except now he thinks that Louis will try, too.

**Author's Note:**

> quick note to point out that this is fictional and sometimes people aren't worth second chances in real life. if someone is not treating you well and they're no longer making you happy, kick them to the curb.


End file.
